


stars may collide

by broship_addict, llheji



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Big Bang 2018, Alternate Universe - Vigilantes, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broship_addict/pseuds/broship_addict, https://archiveofourown.org/users/llheji/pseuds/llheji
Summary: Moonlighting as Abram, member of the city's crime-fighting Foxes, Neil is doing a very bad job at staying under the radar. He's busy enough between his friends, patrol, and bickering with Andrew at work, but with the Ravens gang finally within reach and the reappearance of the Monster, he might have bitten more than he can chew.(Or, how both Neil and Andrew accidentally fall in love with the same person twice. Lame.)





	1. supernova

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh.....i am a bit late with this, @ people who can manage time and also not fall asleep while writing: _how?_
> 
> written for the [2018 big bang](http://aftgbigbang.tumblr.com)! with so much incredible art by the amazing lauren ([llheji](http://llheji.tumblr.com)) that i want to cry! you can find and give love to the art on tumblr [here](https://llheji.tumblr.com/post/177633013095), it's perfect and gorgeous and i'm glad i got to work with her :')
> 
> and a big thanks to moonix for the beta <3
> 
> warnings for: similar themes as canon including violence, references to child sexual abuse, sexual harassment, illegal behavior, death, smoking/drinking, torture, and forms of self-harm. there's also sex.

It’s a nice night for patrol. For one everything’s dry, which is good because the last time it rained Neil had nearly slipped off a roof. The moon’s bright, not that it matters with the amount of light pollution down below, and it’s warm enough that each breath doesn’t feel like a knife to his lungs.

Allison and Dan are doing their patrols on the other ends of downtown. They’re talking on the linked headsets about movies, work, the amount they can squat - whatever passes the time. If they directly ask him anything he might chime in, but until then Neil’s content with letting their banter act as white noise.

The next building is at an intersection, a whole street over. He has his climbing gloves on and a grappling hook latched to his belt, but it’s funner to start sprinting at the far end of this roof and make the death-defying leap across.

Run, jump - hope - roll to kill momentum.

“Stop showing off,” Matt says into his earpiece, but he’s laughing good-naturedly. Dan immediately breaks from the conversation to ask what Neil did this time and he lets Matt explain with a lot more gusto than he would have. He’s not really trying to show off. It’s just - running, jumping from building to building and doing impossible feats make him feel alive, ticking clock be damned. He can’t think above the rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins, can’t feel guilty about what his mother would say about any of this: the patrols, attracting attention, staying in one city for too long. His friends.

Neil’s contemplating the next building - it’s higher, which means he can’t just jump, and modernly sleek with lots of windows and not a lot of areas to stick his hook - when Matt calls for him, humour gone in an instant.

“Abram, you’re closer,” he tells him, Neil’s code name out now that there’s trouble. There’s rapid clicking as he works through whatever program Wymack has figured out to hack city cameras before he’s rattling off an address. “Mugging. One man, armed.”

It’s faster to go around the skyscraper than to figure out the logistics of climbing it, even though Neil makes a mental note to come back later. The street he’s looking for comes into view before long and Neil’s barely breathing hard from the run over. He’d maybe expected to have to catch the mugger as he was fleeing, but to his surprise the alley’s still occupied when he gets there. Without any hesitation he drops down into it, right behind the mugger.

There’s a loud curse in his ear, but then Matt shuts up until Neil’s dealt with the criminal, no matter how much he probably wants to yell at him for jumping in so impulsively. To be fair, it really was stupid, especially since there was no guarantee that whatever Matt had seen was right. There might be someone else hiding in the shadows, the victim might be severely injured, the whole thing might be a trap. Neil didn’t stop to consider any of it until after.

If it were Matt or Allison they would have probably said something witty and biting, but Neil isn’t interested in talking to the people he’s trying to stop. The first thing he does is relieve the mugger of his gun, using a split second of surprise to grab his arm and yank back. Then it’s a hand-to-hand fight, and the only person Neil’s ever lost against is Renee. The mugger swings and Neil dodges almost instinctively, which puts him off balance long enough for Neil to land a hit of his own, weave under his opponent’s sloppy guard, and hook him into a chokehold. After a moment of struggle the mugger’s movements slow, and Neil tries not to think about how if his mother was in his place, she’d be incapacitating the man permanently.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s certain that the mugger’s unconscious. He leaves the guy slumped against the gross wall and wishes one of his friends were here instead, because dealing with people after the criminals are stopped is probably the worst thing ever. “Are you injured anywhere? What did he steal?”

“You,” the victim begins, then, “He didn’t take anything. How did you -”

“I’m part of the Foxes,” Neil says tiredly. They’re sort-of known and sort-of tolerated by local police, even though racist cops are up there on the list of things to look out for.

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “The Foxes?”

In the low light it’s hard to make out any of the victim’s features but the stark contrast of a black number two tattoo right below his left eye is impossible to miss. Suddenly it occurs to Neil that he might have gotten involved in something gang-related, which is immediately backed by the squeal of tires braking abruptly on asphalt and Matt yelling “Look out!” at the top of his lungs.

Neil bowls the victim over and drags him behind a dumpster. That doesn’t stop the sleek car. A few moments of deafening shots later, it pulls away. Neil’s surprised and relieved that he doesn’t have to take on a bunch of thugs with guns significantly bigger than the one he’d confiscated, when he realizes who the target really was. The no-longer victim is hyperventilating and Neil hastily moves back to give him room, doing his best to also avoid the pooling blood.

He crouches beside the body of the mugger and tries to find the best place to staunch the bleeding, even though he knows it’s useless. Neil’s seen enough death to be familiar with it.

Matt’s calling his name breathlessly, a blend of _Abram_ and _Neil_ that shows just how terrified he is. Neil brings his cleaner hand up to his earpiece.

“I’m fine,” he says, for once mostly truthful. “I need back up though.”

 

* * *

Clean-up, if it could be called that, had been awful. It probably would have been easier to drag the body somewhere where they could dispose of it themselves, but as soon as Dan and Allison had arrived they were talking about contacting the police and Neil remembered that oh right - they’re supposed to do things mostly legal.

It’s why he’s so exhausted at work. The pounding bass, flashing lights, and stench of sweat and alcohol doesn’t help.

When it’s busier Neil gets kicked out of the kitchen to help bus, which is really unfortunate because he gets jumpy in crowds. They’re a double-edged sword, equally easy to fade into and get surprised in, and lately the favour has been tilted towards the latter.

He wipes up sticky spill after spill and dumps drained shot glasses into his bin, all the while watching his surroundings like his mother had taught him. Bodies press against each other and Neil has to sidestep to avoid touching anybody, skin feeling as tight and gross as the tables. He’s on edge and tired at the same time - a dangerous combination.

“You done with that?” Neil asks a woman half-draped across a table, pointing at her empty glasses. She’s on the only chair but there must be enough alcohol for an entire group there.

“Yeah,” she slurs, propping herself up and leaning towards him. “I could do you.”

Neil’s already getting a headache. Matt had offered to cover patrol for him today, after last night, but he hadn’t wanted to give up the opportunity to go out. “Not interested.”

He’s distracted trying to balance the glasses when she lunges at him, pressing a hand against the front of his pants before he can process what’s happening. Neil’s immediate instinct is to throw her off and run, and his second is to fight. He has to remember that he’s in Eden’s, not out in the streets, and that he wants to keep this job. The memory of his mother’s words and tight grip roar to life, along with his own disgust.

Someone wrenches her hand away for him. Neil looks up in surprise and it isn’t his mother.

“He said he wasn’t interested,” Andrew says boredly, and twists the woman’s arm so she hisses. He’s short but so broad that he’s imposing anyways, and probably strong enough to back it all up. “That means ‘no.’”

Andrew’s grip tightens for a moment before he finally lets her wrench away. She stumbles getting up and Aaron - all but identical in the dim lighting - takes over. He herds her towards the exit with a scowl twisted onto his face, not saying a word to Neil, and Andrew watches them go silently.

“I could have handled her,” Neil tells the remaining twin.

Andrew’s expression is unreadable under the dumb sunglasses the bouncers wear, but if he were anyone else Neil would guess that he’s pissed. “Are you saying that because she’s a woman or because you think you can’t be assaulted?”

“Neither,” Neil says. Renee’s the best fighter of all of them, and both Allison and Dan can easily go toe-to-toe with Matt. “I’m saying it because she was so drunk that she could barely stand.”

“And yet she touched you.”

Neil squeezes the sides of his bin and tries to shrug carelessly. The light fades from pink to green and everything looks sickly. “I was off guard. It’s not like you’ve never been surprised before.”

“I stopped,” Andrew says, which is appropriately useless and vague for whatever tough-guy impression he’s trying to pull off. He stares at Neil for a moment longer before stalking off, leaving Neil more uncomfortable than he cared to admit.

The rest of the night - both at Eden’s and on patrol - is uneventful. It takes hours for Neil to fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

 

There are now explicit rules for Neil to follow when he’s out - punishment to come via his friends’ excessive smothering. No more impulsively jumping into alleys, getting into crimes that are way over his head - if only they knew - and no more dangerous showy stunts that might get him distracted enough for someone to snipe him super dead.

Neil’s almost reminded of his mother, except she would have already dragged him halfway across the country and also they’re a lot nicer about showing concern. It means that he’s stuck squatting by the ledge of a roof though, bored out of his skull.

“So what do you think?” Matt asks, and Neil appreciates the way he’s trying to entertain him. “Hawks or Knights?”

Neil mulls it over, then says, “Five dollars on the Knights.”

“Stingy,” Allison protests, at the computer this time. “I’m putting fifty on them.”

“Not all of us are amazingly rich,” Dan says. “You’re like the rich crimefighter trope come to life.”

“And proud of it,” Allison declares, prompting a loud snort from Matt.

Neil would probably end up recording the game, since it’s not like Eden’s is the type of bar that’ll play it. And then he’ll be out here again, stuck scouting just the ugly shopfront below him until his friends are satisfied that nobody’s taken out a hit on him. It’s not like the shooters cared enough to kill him on the night of - why would they care weeks later?

Renee interrupts them mid-bicker. “Alarm at a jewelry store - 41st and Wallace. It looks like there’s only one man.”

“On it,” Neil tells her.

“Don’t be reckless,” she says. “Be careful.”

Neil doesn’t have the breath to respond. He’s already making the leap over 42nd Avenue, just blocks away.

He’s busy scanning the streets below him which is probably why he doesn’t realize the robber is up on the roof with him until it’s too late. The next instant pain is exploding from his stomach and he’s on gravel trying to convince his lungs to start working again, arm wrapped around himself protectively.

“Looks like I’ve gotten the drop on the famous Fox this time,” his assailant says. He’s dressed head-to-toe in all black, blending into the night. A tight cap covers his hair and his features are hidden by a bandana decorated so the bottom half of his face is a grinning skull. Neil tries to kick him, but he steps back boredly. “Better luck next time.”

“Fuck you,” Neil grits out. It feels like he at least bruised his ribs.

With a mean laugh the robber twirls his bat before leaning it on his shoulder, offering Neil a two-fingered salute with his other hand. “Buy me dinner first,” he says, opening the door for roof access, before booking it out of there.

“ _Shit_ ,” Neil wheezes, finally staggering to his feet and catching the door just before it closes. It’s infinitely harder to find someone inside a building, especially if they’re familiar with it. The robber’s already out of sight, which means he could be anywhere. Neil glances around warily but the elevator’s one of those stupid ones that doesn’t say what floor it’s on, and for all Neil knows he’s being faked out and the man he’s supposed to be catching is right behind the corner.

Neil checks that first - no luck. He leans against the wall for support and comms his friends.

Matt immediately responds. “Abram! What do you need? Didn’t hear any shots this time.”

“I lost him,” Neil says. They’ve failed before, but every time the disappointment settles deep in his gut. “He surprised me on the way there then ran inside. Probably white, don’t know his hair colour, dressed in all black. Carrying a baseball bat and wearing a dumb skull bandana.”

“Height?”

Neil tries to picture him. From his angle he’d seemed large and imposing, but relative to the door not very tall. “I’m not sure. He knocked me down and I couldn’t judge. Kinda short maybe?”

“Do you -,” Matt begins.

Dan finishes for him. “Think it’s the Monster?”

“Who?”

“The Monster,” Renee says. She and Allison murmur out of the mic’s range and then, “He was a thief before you joined us, robbed banks, stores, houses. We never managed to stop him and then he suddenly went off radar.”

“We’d hoped he kicked the bucket,” Allison says, and is immediately tutted by Renee.

“We called him the Monster because of the bandana. Also because he’s a little gremlin who’s probably four feet tall,” Dan tells him. “I don’t know why he’s back.”

“Boredom?” Neil suggests. “Got tired of not being enough of an asshole?”

Dan laughs. “Anyways, it’s our finally our chance to get him. Guess you get first dibs.”

* * *

 

In the late afternoon Neil jogs to Palmetto. It’s been a while since he last worked out - as in exercise for exercise’s sake instead of being out fighting crime - and there’s that deep ache in his arms of his muscles not being used enough. The receptionist waves at him as he comes in and Neil tries to give her a friendly one back, even though it still feels weird.

Dan’s busy training someone and Matt’s teaching a course. It was actually the job Wymack had offered him when he first joined the team. Neil takes a moment to watch Matt corral a bunch of hyper kids over to the climbing wall and tries to imagine any universe where he’s there instead. He can’t.

He does weights for a bit, because as much as he hates them he really does need to up his strength. The past while has actually been pretty calm, crimes all on the petty side, but Neil isn’t stupid enough to get lulled into a false sense of security. People like the Monster, who are good enough to get away with multiple crimes, and more creative villains with a knack for tech of their own are always out there, some of them specifically targeting the Foxes. Then Neil moves on to the punching bag, picturing that stupid skull bandana on the smooth leather until his blows are coming so fast that the bag doesn’t even have time to bounce back.

“I’m not sure if that’s a fair fight,” Renee says behind him suddenly. She blocks him when he instinctively tries to break her jaw.

“Sorry,” Neil mumbles, sweat dripping into his eyes.

“It’s a good habit,” Renee tells him. “I’d be worried if you didn’t react to me sneaking up on you.”

Neil thinks of the last person to surprise him and is pissed all over again. “Spar?”

“You read my mind,” she says, which Neil obviously can’t. Neil doesn’t really get it, but he’s spent enough time with his friends to know he’s supposed to laugh at it even if it isn’t all that funny.

They make their way to one of the private rooms set up specifically for them to train. It’s mostly bare, but there’s a box of miscellaneous tools and objects in case they want to simulate being on patrol, and the beginnings of gadgets that Wymack is working on. Renee ignores them all, reaching into her belt sheath for a knife, and Neil follows suit. At first the idea of arming himself with the same weapon his father uses had seemed impossible. Now it’s a way to fight back.

Renee always starts by slowly circling, like a shark finding prey. But it’s also her way of taking stock of everything, of generating momentum for the split second when she needs it. Neil stays steady and watches her - he’d never learned to do that. His father and his men had thought that it looked weak, and trained him to hold his ground.

He’s the first to strike when Renee gets too close, then he’s fighting the way his mother taught him - desperate, like he has everything to lose. Renee dodges by a hair’s breadth but lets herself take his follow-up because it grants her an opening to his side. They’re both dirty fighters, both students of violence. Sparring with Renee is terrifying because Neil’s scared that for a moment he’ll see someone else - Lola, his mother, his father - in her place. It’s freeing because they’re moving too fast for him to think of anything else.

It ends when Renee has Neil on the floor but his knife is held to the base of her spine. As far as draws go it’s pretty weak - he’s dead and she’s probably paralyzed - but it was a good fight and Neil at least managed to work out his frustration with the Monster. He withdraws the knife so Renee can get up and she offers him a hand.

“You’re too conscious of your ribs,” she says, which is definitely true. Abby had declared them not broken, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt like hell whenever Renee managed to land a hit.

“Your feints are still too obvious,” Neil tells her in return. It’s the one thing he can fault with her fighting, the way it’s clear she’s focussed on something else, and Renee nods in agreement.

They go a couple more rounds, until they’re sweat-soaked and significantly more bruised than they’d been before. Neil walks around in little circles as his heartbeat calms down, chugging his water in between gasps for air. He eyes Renee, trying to work her phone with sweaty fingers, before slumping against a wall and leaning his head back.

He hadn’t expected to stay so long, to have anything worth staying for. Neil had met Matt and Dan at the gym where he’d bought a cheap membership to shower, and had accidentally gotten involved in a fight against one of the city’s stronger villains. With a pang of guilt Neil remembers how he shouldn’t have even gone out with them in the first place, much less draw attention to himself and get recruited onto a crime-fighting team.

“Here,” Renee says suddenly, tossing a towel over to him. He fumbles with it in surprise and wonders when he’d started letting his guard down.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. They quietly stretch out and leave, locking the door behind themselves because the weapons and random bits of Wymack’s projects inside are too dangerous to have out. Neil checks the time and he’s running a little late - he’ll probably take a quick shower and head straight to Eden’s.

Renee stops him before they separate. “Neil,” she says, her voice sweet even though he knows what she’s capable of. “It’s good to see you. Take it easy as you heal.”

“Right. Will do.” Neil doesn’t know if he’s ever taken it easy in his life, but the sentiment is nice enough to make him awkward. “Thanks,” he says again because he can’t think of anything else. He gives her what is probably a painful-looking smile before leaving for the showers and tries not to think about what his mother would have said in Renee’s place.

Palmetto has a couple of shower stalls, partly set up because the Foxes have a lot of bruises and scars that they probably shouldn’t advertise. Neil stands under the hot water for as long as he can before quickly changing into a cleanish pair of jeans and a shirt that is definitely not tight or dark enough for Eden’s. He’ll probably stay hidden in the kitchen anyways, but it’s a weird thought that his duffle isn’t carrying all of his clothes right now.

The cousins are already there when Neil finally arrives, lounging at the bar while waiting for Eden’s to open. Nicky is chattering excitedly, a familiar sight, as Aaron boredly scrolls through his phone and Andrew watches expressionlessly. They all look up as Neil approaches them in favour of skulking to the back like usual and Nicky flashes him a thousand-lumen smile.

“Hey, Neil,” he says cheerfully, making grabby motions with his hands so Neil comes closer. “You’re early. Come settle an argument.”

Neil looks at him with a sense of dread, because Nicky always has too much energy and usually says dumb things.

“So if there’s a guy, super hunky, very hot, who works at the DMV and laughs at my bad gay jokes, does that mean he’s into me?”

Aaron makes an ugly groaning noise and Neil can probably guess what his response was. He wonders what will get Nicky to leave him alone the fastest and says, “Sure.”

“Okay, great,” Nicky says gleefully. Andrew is now staring straight at Neil, who tries his best to ignore it. “But what about going back to flirt? I mean, is it a bad or good thing if I have to keep going there to talk to him?”

“Um,” Neil stalls, because he’s probably ace and really not the person to answer these questions. “Don’t get into any accidents just to see him? I think I’m needed in the kitchen.” While Nicky’s distracted considering his advice he escapes past them. There he’s instantly saddled with a list of things to heat up and take out and orders start trickling in.

As the night progresses the kitchen slows, orders for snacks ceasing as people get drunker and drunker. Neil sighs but grabs an empty bin to take out and help their one bus boy, counting down the seconds until his shift ends and he can head out on patrol.

After the incident he’s been avoiding talking to people even more, sticking to abandoned glasses or tables where they specifically wave him down. Someone’s signalling to him frantically and Neil heads over with rolled eyes and a fake smile plastered on his face, but stops dead when he sees who it is.

“It’s you,” says the victim from the alley mugging-turned-drive-by-shooting. His tattoo has been half-smudged by concealer, but it’s obvious now that Neil knows it’s there. “The Fox.”

He must see Neil getting ready to run because he throws himself forward and latches onto the loose fabric of his shirt. Neil lets him, because the moment he needs to get free he’s confident he can break the other man’s hand. “You can’t leave,” he says desperately. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“How did you find me?” Neil demands, before the boozy stench of his breath and the table covered in empty glasses click. Obviously he hadn’t been looking that hard.

“I need to talk to you,” the victim says, just as annoyingly vaguely. Neil’s about to snap at him to get on with it when -

“Is there a problem?” Andrew drawls. He draws up close to them, hands shoved faux-casually in his pockets even though Neil’s pretty sure that he’s ready to pry the other man off him. It’s irritatingly familiar.

“It’s fine,” Neil says quickly. A glance around reminds him that he’s in the middle of Eden’s, in an open area where anybody can eavesdrop on them talking about how he moonlights as a crimefighter. “I’m taking a break. Come,” he adds to the victim, since he needs to drop off his bin.

Something unreadable passes across Andrew’s face, his whole expression shuttering for a moment, and it almost seems like he’s going to stop them before he pauses and nods stiffly. “Not causing trouble this time?”

Andrew’s annoying as fuck, but Neil supposes he really is trying to help. “Funny,” he says flatly. “But thanks.”

He gestures for the victim to follow him, the whole time feeling Andrew’s stare on his back. Before long he’s herding the other man into the stock room, shutting the door behind himself and leaning back against it so no one can barge in. “Talk.”

“My name is Kevin Day,” says the victim, starting off strong and for the first time he draws up to his full height - an upsetting foot taller than Neil. “I need to speak to the Fox’s leader. David Wymack.”

Well fuck. “Haha very funny,” Neil says, tensing up and trying to subtly draw his knife. “Fuck you.” Kayleigh Day - the first Fox and the brawn backed up by Wymack - died over twenty years ago and her son, about five at the time, had disappeared. He’s assumed dead, but Neil knows that Wymack secretly hopes he’s still alive.

“It’s true,” not-Kevin protests. “I swear. I can do a DNA test to prove it - do you have a swab? Or - I’ll do a blood test if you need that.”

“Um,” Neil says, a little taken aback. “That’s disgusting, and we store food here.”

Instantly, not-Kevin shuts down. There’s a sort of desperation in him, and a deep resignation that makes even Neil feel kind of bad. For a moment Neil wonders if he really _is_ Kevin Day, whether this is life-or-death for him. He wonders where he’d been all this time, and why he only just decided to make contact. “Please,” not-Kevin says, like his world would end if Neil says no.

Neil sighs. Even if not-Kevin is lying, Wymack would probably want to be told about this - Neil knows that at the very least he cared for Kayleigh Day a lot - which means he at least owes it to him to drag this out longer. “Okay, fine. Give me your phone number and we’ll contact you.”

Maybe-Kevin fumbles with pulling out his phone, then when Neil just stares at him expectantly, slowly recites the number. He looks worried that Neil isn’t using anything to copy down the number, but Neil’s been using memory tricks on phone numbers for years and like hell he’ll let his guard down long enough to take out his own phone. Maybe-Kevin is still looking at him like he can’t believe it’s happening, and Neil is a suspicious person be it through nature or nurture.

“Hey,” Neil says, and this time he does draw his knife, flipping it expertly and holding it inches from maybe-Kevin’s face. There’s an instantaneous moment of fear in maybe-Kevin’s body, told in the way he tenses like a cornered animal and locks up without even bothering to look for an escape. He probably looks like Neil did, years ago. “Tell anyone where I am and I will gut you. Lay a trap for us and you’re dead. I might be a Fox but that doesn’t mean I’m a good person.”

“You wouldn’t be a Fox if you weren’t good,” maybe-Kevin stubbornly argues. When Neil only narrows his eyes he says, “I won’t. I promise.”

Reaching behind himself, Neil opens the door without taking his eyes off of him and pointedly tilts his head for maybe-Kevin to exit first. “You should leave,” he says, in case maybe-Kevin thinks he can hang around Eden’s. Then, “Pay your tab first.”

Maybe-Kevin nods and scurries out, not even glancing behind himself which will definitely make Neil’s job of tailing him later easier. He’s surprised by Andrew as he closes the storage room though, drawn tight like whatever was bothering him before hadn’t gone away.

“Had fun?” Andrew asks mockingly, tapping his fingers against the doorframe in an unsteady rhythm. Neil shrugs and - for probably the first time that he’s ever seen - Andrew scowls before stalking off.

* * *

 

This time Neil is ready. The only reason why the Monster had gotten the drop on him before was because he hadn’t expected him to also be on the rooftops - this time Neil ignores the _don’t you dare -_ beginning in his earpiece and uses his grappling hook to swing across the space between their buildings and crash into the fleeing thief.

They tumble a few feet, momentum bringing them further from the edge like Neil had hoped. The Monster instinctively brings a hand up to keep his bandana from slipping down, and it’s the distraction Neil needed to slice through the strap of his bag and scramble away with it clutched in his hands. The Monster’s eyes narrow at him, and Neil feels cocky enough to tap two fingers against his skull in a mockery of the Monster’s own salute and taunt, “Better luck next time.”

“Interesting,” mumbles the Monster as he slowly pulls himself to his feet and swipes a hand across his mouth. “Guess you can teach an old Fox new tricks afterall.”

Neil watches him warily, re-engaging his grappling hook, tucking it back in his belt, and tossing the bag of stolen goods behind himself so he’d have both hands free. “Careful,” he warns. “This one bites.”

“What are you -” says Wymack into his earpiece, “Are you _flirting_? I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“What are you talking about?” Neil grumbles, even as the other Foxes squawk in outrage, demanding to know what’s going on. He might complain later, because it’s a struggle to ignore them when they’re all raising their voices to get his attention over each other.

In between Allison and Matt’s bickering, the Monster comes at him swinging. At least it’s what Neil needs to start focussing.

The Monster isn’t a clever fighter, not like Renee, who’ll calculate what she needs to sacrifice to land a hit, or even like Matt, who was trained in boxing and MMA and gives Neil a headache everytime they spar. Every punch and kick is thoughtlessly aimed at easy targets - Neil’s head, stomach, throat, and crotch - and it’s obvious that he’s not pulling any back. Neil is faster than the Monster though, and nothing lands. He turns aside a punch, pushes against the inside of the Monster’s elbow, and swings around behind him so his own arm is restraining him.

For a moment the Monster freezes, entire body coming to a shuddering halt. Neil is almost about to ask what the problem is, but the Monster knocks his head up and slams his skull against Neil’s nose before he can.

It’s enough of a surprise - usually his opponents are tall enough that they can’t get proper leverage when Neil’s restraining them like this - that Neil automatically lets go. He’s really beginning to get tired of the Monster’s dirty fighting, because the next thing he knows is that there’s an elbow lodged in his stomach and suddenly the Monster is free-falling off the edge of the building. Neil shouts, the instinct that his friends have hammered into him forcing him to scrabble for his grappling hook gun to catch the Monster, but his fingers come up empty.

 _Little shit_ , Neil thinks instead furiously instead of watching the Monster flatten himself on the sidewalk.

His nose isn’t quite broken, but it hurts like hell. The other Foxes and Wymack are still arguing on the line and Neil doesn’t want to interrupt them to explain how he lost the Monster again, or why he’ll be needing a new grappling hook.

* * *

 

Neil barely gets down from the climbing wall before a piece of paper is shoved in his face.

“And this is?”

“I’ve compiled a detailed list of things you need to work on,” Kevin tells him, shaking the paper so it’ll quiver a little for emphasis. “Being saved by you was a terrible experience. I’d rate it one star.”

“The fuck?” Neil says. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Fine. One point five.”

Neil wonders if he can just ignore Kevin out of existence. He pulls off his harness - unfortunately mandatory at Palmetto, even though Neil wouldn’t have any sort of safety net when he’s actually out, and is disappointed when Kevin follows him over to the mats as he stretches out.

“You also need a costume change,” Kevin continues. “You look like just another thug.”

Neil rolls his eyes and sits, stretching his legs out and bending over. The breath is knocked out of him when Kevin suddenly pushes him three inches deeper and he barely manages to grit out, “Says you, who lived with a crime family for years.” He likes the costume Allison had given him, which is easy to sneak around in and basically amounts to normal clothes, unlike Matt’s bright and skintight suit.

The pressure is relieved for a split second before Kevin presses him down firmer and says, “That’s why I’m helping you take them down.”

He keeps harping about everything Neil does wrong, from the way he stands to his - admittedly - terrible bedside manners. Neil tiredly wishes he’d just let Kevin collect holes while he had the chance and exhausts himself more than usual by wasting breath and shooting down every criticism Kevin gives.

“Did you do this to everyone else?” he wonders aloud. “Or am I the only one who has to listen to you?”

Kevin makes an unimpressed noise. “Of course. The Foxes are an utter mess right now. My mom wouldn’t have let any of you go out like this.”

Neil’s almost proud of himself for not pointing out that the last time Kayleigh had been alive, Kevin would’ve been shorter than his waist. He’s been working on his tact, after that time even Renee had told him he was horrible for asking someone to stop complaining about the blood - they’d probably only lost a pint - but now that he thinks about it, this is probably why the other Foxes had all fled as soon as he arrived this morning. It’s cute and all that Kevin’s trying to help with Kayleigh’s legacy, but he really can stand to be less of an asshole.

Kevin is now criticizing every aspect of his workout routine, which he’d apparently watched, and Neil struggles to tune him out. By the time he’s done he’s also ready to strangle Kevin and is in a bad mood as he goes to talk to Wymack about the new stun gun he’s been working on.

Kevin falls silent the moment they get to Wymack’s office, which Neil really should have thought of before. “Coach,” he says, “Any progress?”

It takes Wymack a beat longer to respond than usual - he and Kevin are now desperately trying to avoid looking at each other. The parental testing had done more than prove that Kevin really is Kayleigh’s son, and Wymack and Kevin hadn’t been prepared for it. “The dosage is still off,” he says gruffly. “It’s going to kill anyone under 200 pounds.”

Neil looks at the mess of tools and parts around him and can’t wrap his head around how Wymack managed to self-teach himself all of this. “Need any help?” he offers. He tries to convey, _Let me stay so Kevin’ll back off_ with his eyes.

“I need you to go away.” What Wymack’s eyes say is, _Are you kidding me? He’ll stay here and it’ll be too awkward to work._

“Are you sure?” Neil is so close to begging that he’s ready to volunteer as a test target.

“Fuck off, kid,” Wymack tells him. “Close the door on your way out.”

Kevin’s relief when Neil finally leaves is palpable. He opens his mouth again and Neil wishes for a quick and painless death.

* * *

 

There’s something different about Andrew at Eden’s later that night. His hair has been gelled back so it’s almost-coiffed - Neil only knows the word because last month Allison had been campaigning for him to do the same - and he keeps staring at Neil so often that he’s getting antsy. Neil’s already grumpy after having to listen to Kevin go on and on for hours, so the next time he catches Andrew watching him through the swinging kitchen door he holds his gaze and bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile.

At least it’s a weeknight, which means it never really gets busy enough for Neil to be kicked out of the kitchen. The bass outside is mostly muffled and he doesn’t have to listen to Nicky and Roland’s shitty jokes whenever they cross paths.

Neil pauses to check the clock and sees that it’s almost time for his break. Which is a relief, because his eyes are itching a lot after someone’s burger got left on the grill too long and he feels like he needs to check his contacts. When there’s a lull in orders he tells the cook that he’s heading out and makes a quick beeline for the bathroom.

He fixes his contacts first, and since he’s there anyways, flips up his bangs just to see if his roots are getting visible yet. Black hair and dark eyes make it a lot easier for him to blend in, especially considering the genetic improbability of his real colouring and darker skin, but there’s no hint of red and his contacts don’t feel so tight anymore.

Andrew’s standing right outside when he opens the door, and Neil is a little embarrassed by how he jumps in surprise. Andrew’s tendency to sneak up on him is getting really irritating, and Neil narrows his eyes at him, crossing his arms. “Can I help you?”

Wordlessly, Andrew turns and walks off - the confirmation Neil needed that this really _was_ Andrew, since Aaron would have taken the bait and argued with him. When Neil doesn’t follow he impatiently loops around so instead he’s herding Neil past the dance floor. The sheep treatment is annoying, but Neil doesn’t say anything after years used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, and is eventually led into the stock room. The door clicks behind him and for a moment he thinks Andrew is locking him in, but when he whirls around Andrew’s in there with him.

Neil opens his mouth to chew Andrew out, but doesn’t get the chance. Andrew steps close to him, so there’s only an inch of space between them and Neil has to actually tilt his head down to look at him. At some point he must have taken off his sunglasses, because his eyes are almost molten under the dim lighting. They flicker down to Neil’s mouth.

“Yes,” Andrew says, his breath brushing over Neil’s throat, “Or no?”

Neil takes a step back. “What?”

Andrew gives him a wholly unimpressed look, and says, “To kissing you.”

“What,” Neil repeats, then, “No?”

Andrew stills, then abruptly moves away. Neil hadn’t realized how much heat he was letting off, and holds back a shiver.

He feels the need to explain himself, as silly as it is. “I’m not interested. In anyone,” he clarifies. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Andrew tells him. “It is not your fault.” From anyone else it might have sounded resentful, or maybe passive-aggressive, but Andrew says it like a truth, as simple as the sun rising every morning and the inevitableness of death.

They’re silent for a moment, awkwardly staring at each other, when Andrew suddenly turns away and walks out. Neil doesn’t know if he’s imagining the almost disappointed slump of his shoulders, but trails him out to the back anyways.

Andrew pushes his fingers through his hair, ruining whatever he’d done to it. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it hastily, all while pointedly not looking at Neil. Neil thinks he’s going to just ignore him when he finally says, “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Assumed?” Neil echoes, trying not to focus on how rough Andrew’s voice sounds.

Andrew turns to look at him flatly. “When you brought the other guy to the back.”

Neil has to think hard for a moment, almost coming up blank until he remembers offered DNA samples in the stock room. “Kevin?”

He tries to imagine doing whatever Andrew thought he was doing with Kevin, and can’t quite wrap his head around it. Aside from the fact that he’s already decided kissing strangers isn’t for him, Kevin would probably hand him a new sheet of paper with another list of criticisms, to join the growing pile on Neil’s shitty excuse for a dining table. Andrew only shrugs as confirmation.

“Wait,” Neil says, the thought only just occurring to him, “You thought I went to the stock room to make out with him? Do other people do that?”

 _What do you think_ , Andrew’s expressionless face - save for a raised eyebrow - says.

Neil narrowly bites back on repeating, _We store food in there_ , and instead says, “How was I supposed to know?”

“It was not subtle,” Andrew finally says, taking a long drag. “If you like you can forget this whole thing happened.”

“I don't -” Neil starts. He doesn't know how to say that for some reason their sort-of friendship actually means something, that he both wished he had and hadn’t realized what was happening. In frustration he finishes with, “I don't know.”

With a final breath of nicotine Andrew stubs out his cigarette on the sole of his boots, carelessly tossing the remainder to join the mess littering the sidewalk. “That is not an answer,” he says, and goes back inside.

Neil stays, watching a group stumble drunkenly towards their car and the one steady person manhandle them into the back. It creeps slowly out of the lot, and Neil can’t figure out why he’s so unsettled.

* * *

 

Neil takes the elevator up to the tenth floor, where his apartment is, takes out his contacts, changes out, then climbs the remaining four floors as warm-up. There’s a prickle in his skin, a feeling of both being there and not, and Neil knows it’s because his mind keeps getting dragged back to Eden’s, with Andrew.

He remembers Andrew saying, _to kissing you_ , the way he’d peered up at him with half-lidded eyes. He remembers the sticky kisses he had shared with nameless girls on the run, and the way his mother would pull him away after. Neil wasn’t lying when he had said that he wasn’t interested, because after the second time he’d realized that the kisses weren’t unenjoyable not because of his parents or the fear, but because he didn’t have it in him to care enough to want to do it again.

He still doesn’t, so he’s not sure why Andrew is bothering him so much. Is it because he still doesn’t get what Andrew might see in him - in anyone - or because he was seen in the first place? Andrew should terrify him, should be the warning he needs to finally pack up and leave this city where too many people know him and too many people notice him, where people might care if he disappears. But he doesn’t want to.

As Neil makes his way onto the roof he switches on his comm. Instantly his ears are filled with Kevin’s complaints in the background and Dan’s annoyed responses. They’re arguing about the Foxes’ patrol strategy, and Dan is getting more and more frustrated because she’s been helping to lead them for years and Kevin is probably the most stubborn asshole to grace the planet. He thinks the day that Kevin’s finally trained enough to be point-man full time will be the day the Foxes quit altogether. And then Neil would be one tether freer.

Because of his unusually introspective mood Neil decides to keep his mic off and lower the volume of his earpiece, leaving them at a low mumble so it’s just him and the night sky. He takes off at a running start and leaps across the sparse traffic below, ignoring Dan and Kevin’s frustrated reminders to lay low.

Neil doesn’t even know where he’s going - maybe he’s not even aimed towards anywhere, just running away because that’s what he’s used to. He takes himself several blocks further before catching his attention on a lone figure standing on a rooftop.

The first thought is a suicide jumper, which is definitely not Neil’s strength. He’s about to turn his mic back on and call for one of his friends when the person turns slightly, and underlit by dozens of streetlamps is the Monster’s bandana, skull grin ghastly even when it’s not directed at him.

Frustration and anger fill Neil and the next thing he knows he’s changing course, raring for a fight.

The Monster turns to him slowly, like a supervillain from one of Matt’s movies. “It’s you again,” he says, so flatly that the breeze almost snatches his words away.

“Me,” Neil echoes. “This time to stop you.”

The Monster shrugs and lifts his arms - Neil’s surprised to see that he isn’t carrying a new bag, to replace the one he’d managed to retrieve last time. “Stop me from what?”

It dawns on Neil that the Monster is doing the same thing as him; itching for a fight and a way to make everything else fade away. No one’s bothered to ask him why he’s stopped - for them his steady location probably looks like he’s just found a good spot to rest - and the whole roof is clear. The Monster’s even changed to fighting gear this time, ditching his jacket in favour of tight clothes which are harder to grab, though Neil is fairly certain he still has some weapons on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Neil asks. He’s supposed to be the good guy, even if he really, really needs a way to vent.

“I want nothing,” the Monster tells him. “But this might be interesting enough to hold my attention.”

Neil hates him, from his shitty lines to his dirty tactics. His fingers find his grappling hook, just to make sure it’s secure, and the moment they leave is the moment the Monster starts running in with an attack.

This is the first time they’ve fought on even ground, no surprise ambushes or distractions. Neil sort-of takes back thinking that he was faster - if he is, the Monster’s not far behind, even if his movements don’t have either the desperation or the crispness that Neil tends to switch between, depending on whose training stands stronger. He tries to avoid snagging down the bandana, and since the Monster doesn’t draw a weapon Neil keeps his own knives sheathed. Their fight lasts longer like this anyways.

Neil manages to hook a foot behind the Monster’s knee, bringing him crumbling down even though the stubborn bastard catches and drags him down too. As stupid as Neil feels rolling on the ground it’s also dangerous - the Monster effectively gets rid of Neil’s two best advantages - and at the first chance he gets Neil sneaks his leg up, knees the Monster under the chin, and scrambles to his feet when he instinctively recoils.

Something flashes in the Monster’s eyes when he realizes that Neil’s giving him time to stand. They reset, and this time Neil understands the Monster’s fighting well enough that he starts edging the upperhand. In a split second the Monster manages to draw a knife from under his sleeves, where he must be wearing a sheath if he doesn’t want to slice his arms into ribbons, and that’s the moment when Neil wins.

The Butcher of Baltimore’s son was raised to wield knives, even if Neil Josten doesn’t want to. To some degree he’s always holding back against Renee, too scared of what’s probably a part of him to truly fight like it’s to the death, but even if he wasn’t extending that courtesy to the Monster, Renee’s still better than he is.

When Neil draws his own knife, it feels natural, as if his father had grafted it onto his arm. He’s had training and practice since he could walk, and it’s almost child’s play to disarm the Monster with the same move Lola had honed to perfection.

Even weaponless, the Monster doesn’t look like he’ll give up, or run away. It’s up to Neil to decide whether or not he wants to finally take the Monster down.

“I’m done,” he says instead. He tosses the Monster’s knife at his feet. “Unless you want to go another round.”

The Monster eyes him warily, but is at least smart enough to know there’s no hoping of winning anymore. “There will not be a point,” he finally decides.

Neil sheathes his blade and goes to the far end of the roof, but stays clear enough of the edge that he can’t be pushed over. He can hear the scraping noise of the Monster collecting his own knife, and finally the sounds of him settling down on the ground. They’re both still breathing hard.

“You’re not supposed to sit this soon, you know,” Neil tells him. “It’s not good for your blood flow.”

“Duly noted, Meredith Grey,” the Monster says. “I don’t care.”

Neil’s already feeling better, like fighting the Monster had somehow fought his paranoia as well. “If you did you might be better. It was close up until the end.”

“No one needs a smart mouth.” The Monster glares at him, then slowly gets up. Neil tenses, not sure if he’s about to attack, but instead the Monster just peers over the edge of the roof at the street below them. He backs up a bit, pauses, then makes the easy jump across the narrow alleyway to the next building.

Neil likes to think he’s a lot more graceful, because that landing looks terrible. “Need me to walk you down?” he calls out. “I haven’t had many old ladies to help cross roads.”

“He’s also a comedian,” the Monster says aloud, then bends down and retrieves Neil’s old grappling hook from behind the ledge. “And a shitty one at that.”

“Fuck off,” Neil tells him, and it’s almost friendly. He watches the Monster swing a few more buildings over, before finally disappearing into an access door.

Now that his distraction’s gone, Neil turns back up the volume of his earpiece and switches on his mic. It doesn’t seem like anyone had noticed what he was up to, long used to his silences by now. Kevin has somehow managed to pick a fight with Renee of all people, and they’re in total disagreement about whether the Foxes should start trying to gain publicity when Neil decides to chip in.

“Nope,” he cheerfully tells Kevin as he attempts to convince them all to attend an interview, to make up for their decreasing popularity ever since Kayleigh’s death. “If you try to put me in front of a camera I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

* * *

 

Insistent rapping of knuckles on Neil’s door wakes him up earlier than he would have liked, tired and bruised and sore. It’s sliding into mid-afternoon, which means that none of his neighbors are around to get fussy about the noise, and it isn’t until his phone starts buzzing too that he finally peels open his eyes.

A stream of texts come in, ranging from Matt’s cheerful, _Hey buddy_ , to Kevin’s, _Open the fucking door_. The knocking gets louder, and this better be something really, really important.

Neil has two extra bolts and a latch locking his door, all courtesy of Matt since he hadn’t had so much as a screwdriver when he joined the team. As soon as he jerks the first one open the knocking finally ceases, and Neil keeps the latch on as he cracks open the door.

“What,” he says. After working at Eden’s into the late evening and then going out to patrol until the sun starts creeping up, all Neil wants to do is sink back into bed.

“Oh, I was just about to call you,” Matt says faux-innocently. “We have a surprise.”

The surprise comes in the form of a wet snout shoving its way through the barely-opened door. “What,” Neil repeats.

“We went to the shelter,” Kevin finally butts in, and Neil fails to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow. It’s not a secret that Matt absolutely hates Kevin and his bossiness, and he can’t imagine why they’d go anywhere together.

“Hey!” Kevin exclaims when Neil says as much.

“I can’t believe it either,” Matt agrees. “Turns out that when Renee suggested Kevin look into getting a dog she meant a therapy dog but, well, I fucking love dogs. Look at this cutie, I vote we replace Kevin with her.” He bends down to wrap his arms around her, consequently bringing Neil’s attention back to the wet nose.

Neil finally unlatches the door so he can open it all the way. “Oh,” he says, because where the dog’s front left leg should be is only a stump.

Kevin, who all the while has been stroking her soft-looking fur must have heard the unvoiced question because he explains, “She was born without it. But it doesn’t bother her at all, does it Maevie?” Neil coughs on air as his voice trails off into a ridiculous coo and his other hand comes up to scrub at the back of her neck.

“Maevie?”

“Maeve, like the Irish queen,” Kevin tells him defensively. Neil shrugs, and is caught in a yawn at the same time.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Matt says, and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re taking her out for her inaugural trip to the park. You’re coming.”

Neil almost says no, warm bed still waiting for him, but the dumb dog is looking at him with literal puppy eyes - a term he learned from Dan - and both Matt and Kevin look better than he’s seen in a while, problems with the Ravens finally on the backburner. “Fine,” he says, a grin sneaking its way onto his face, “Just let me get changed.”

Ten minutes later and they’re jogging towards a park a couple blocks away from Neil’s apartment. They must make a strange sight, three guys in procession and a dog with a loping gait. Maeve barely even needs her harness, staying beside Kevin the whole way, and eventually Neil gets antsy enough with their slow pace that he swiftly passes the rest of them. He’s at the park a sixty-eight count in French earlier than Matt, Kevin, and Maeve, and barely out of breath.

“You’re the worst,” Matt complains in between pants. Kevin looks even worse off, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline to his chin, and Maeve just tilts her head cheerfully between them.

Neil had a list of things he needed to do today - go to the gym, buy a new tube of toothpaste, talk to Dan about their stakeout schedule. Instead he spends a couple hours with his friends at the park, gingerly taking hold of Maeve’s leash when Kevin hands it to him and laughing as he and Matt fruitlessly try to teach Maeve how to stand and sit on command.

The sun is warm on his back. He’s with his friends, two people he’d trust his life with, settled into this bustling city where Neil Josten can actually make a difference. And maybe the warmth is inside of him too, sinking in and grounding him into a place where he finally belongs.

“I have to go,” Neil finally says, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. They’re all crammed onto one bench, fast food bag nestled in Kevin’s lap so he can move it away from Maeve if need be. “Need to change for work.”

“Boo,” Matt complains. “This wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d accepted Wymack’s offer at the gym. We could have been time-off buddies.”

Neil doesn’t know how to tell him that at the time, he’d been terrified of spending any more time with the Foxes than necessary. He balls up his wrapper and grabs the empty bag to throw away. “You’d probably just distract me all day,” he says instead.

“He’s right - the gym really needs more professionalism,” Kevin says. He and Matt start bickering, and Neil’s still grinning as he waves them goodbye.

An idea is bubbling in the back of his mind. He drops by the corner store for his toothpaste and makes the split-second decision to ask for a pack of cigarettes too.

* * *

 

Neil's in a good mood by the time he gets to Eden's later that day. Being with Matt and Kevin had been nice, a weird bit of normality between jumping off of buildings, picking fights with criminals, and dealing with the terrifying realization that he’s finally made a spot for himself here.

He remembers the look of sheer panic on Kevin’s face when Maeve managed to topple Matt over, and can't stop himself from grinning. Over by the bar, Nicky crows when he sees him.

“Hey,” he says, waving Neil over enthusiastically. Neil can't even bring himself down enough to be annoyed by Nicky’s overwhelming cheer. “It’s good to see you happy for once. Normally you're all frowny and quiet. Had a nice day?”

“Yeah,” Neil says. “I guess so.”

Nicky looks at him expectantly, as if waiting for Neil to say more, before sighing dramatically and flopping his forehead onto the counter. “Fine, be stingy with the details. It's not like I know anything at all about your life.”

His faux-moodiness is almost funny, and Neil is still feeling the bubbly after effects of being friendly. “I think I like dogs,” he offers.

Just as expected, Nicky eats up that tiny morsel of information like a wildfire. “You think? What does that even mean? And - aw, I’m a cat person. So’s Andrew, which means that the only one you can be friends with is Aaron now.”

Neil makes a face at the prospect. “Never mind. Maybe I like - I don't know - rabbits or something.”

“A joke!” Nicky laughs, even though it wasn't particularly funny. “Who are you, and what did you do to Neil?”

“I hid his body where no one will find it,” Neil says flatly, and is rewarded with another bout of laughter. It occurs to Neil that despite how talkative and exhausting Nicky can be, he’s still another tether holding him here.

Andrew, waiting near the kitchen door, finally creeps over. “Cook says to hurry up,” he says. He isn't looking at Neil, but it's obviously meant for him.

“Sure,” Neil tells him. He isn't particularly trying to catch Andrew's eye so Andrew isn't really avoiding it, but there’s an awkwardness between them as Neil scoots around him. Neil almost misses their jibes.

It's two and a half hours of kitchen work before Neil’s break comes up. He’s sweating, but fights through the throng anyways instead of sulking to the side like usual. The pounding music and flashing lights are as horrible as ever, equally difficult to see and hear in. Finding Andrew is hard, since he’s so much shorter than everyone else, but eventually Neil manages to track him down to a spot by the wall.

Andrew lifts his head in acknowledgment of Neil, but is otherwise quiet. Neil wonders if he's surprised by this turn of events, with Neil seeking him out rather than Andrew sneaking up on him.

“Hey,” Neil says, once he’s finally close enough that he doesn’t have to shout to be heard. “I’m taking my break. Want to come out for a smoke?”

At first Andrew doesn't respond, and Neil’s worried that he’ll say no, that this little peace offering won’t be enough. Finally he nods, peeling himself away from the wall hips-first in a smooth motion. Andrew turns to where Aaron is and signals to him, before coming up so he’s standing toe-to-toe with Neil. Even shorter, there’s something about Andrew that seems bigger and with the sunglasses on, his face is unreadable.

“Lead the way,” Andrew says almost mockingly, and is right behind him as Neil dives back into the crowd.

Neil reaches into his pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and lighter and pushing open the back door at the same time, holding it open behind himself long enough for Andrew to catch it. He’d noticed the brand Andrew had smoked earlier, and breaks the seal as Andrew watches impatiently. He offers both the lighter and the pack to Andrew before pulling out a cigarette for himself.

Andrew lights up and immediately takes a drag, but Neil is content to hold his own and watch the smoke spiral up into the night sky. His mother had never let him smoke even when she was leaning out windows to get a bit of nicotine, and the habit he’d picked up after she died promptly fizzled after finding out that Wymack was trying to quit.

“It’s going to go out,” Andrew tells him.

Neil shrugs, since he hadn’t really bought the cigarettes for himself, but brings it to his lips to keep it lit anyways. Andrew watches him curiously, but seems to decide not to say anything.

Several times Neil imagines saying something, but every time the words die before they make it to his mouth. He can’t imagine Andrew being impressed if he tried to reaffirm whatever semblance of friendship they had before, can’t think of anything that isn’t incredibly awkward.

Andrew is the first to finish, since he’s actually smoking, but he waits for Neil to stub his cherry against the sole of his shoe and pocket the rest before heading back in. The heat from Eden’s instantly soaks into Neil, and he notices Aaron looking at them as they part ways.

When Neil gets back to his apartment he drops by his mailbox. He blindly grabs whatever’s inside and jogs up the stairs, dumping it on his counter before changing out for patrol. There’s still a little time to kill, and even though he normally saves his mail to deal with later, Neil decides to open up the envelopes now.

His good mood dies as he reads Riko Moriyama’s first threat.

* * *

 

_Give me Kevin or you will regret._

That’s it. The message is short and sweet, and if Neil had had any hopes that the family they’re trying to take down had just the tiniest bit of creativity, it would have been quickly squashed. It’s quite pathetic really. The fact that Riko Moriyama needs to resort to petty threats - and not even good ones - also says a lot about how much power he truly holds. Neil has heard enough from Kevin, as sheltered from the Raven’s operation as he is, to know that Riko had been deprived of any high position within the family.

Neil’s a dead man walking already. The Ravens knowing where he lives doesn’t change anything.

It’s why Neil doesn’t even bother telling anyone about the half-assed note, as the only thing it’d accomplish is make Kevin even more unbearable. He carelessly tears the paper into quarters and drops it into his trash bin, then heads to the bathroom to get ready to go out. He’s a little annoyed that a nice day could be marred by an egotistical, wannabe mob boss with daddy issues, but turning his earpiece on to Matt excitedly regaling their park trip to the girls helps.

“Hey,” he says, in a moment between laughter. “Matt telling you about how Kevin fell flat on his butt?”

“Did not,” Kevin protests, even as Matt obliges to Dan and Allison’s cheers. He’s still not trained enough to go out, and from the sound of things Wymack’s there to watch over him - even if they’re being incredibly awkward with each other - which means that the rest of the Foxes are all out on patrol tonight. It leaves them in unusually close quarters, which means Neil’s going to have to be careful not to run into any of them as he seeks out the Monster.

“I’m so mad that you didn’t invite me,” Dan is saying. “I absolutely fucking _love_ dogs.”

“Dog people soulmates,” Matt says.

Neil laughs with everyone else, and swallows the sound abruptly when he finally sees who he’s looking for. The Monster is already facing him this time, hands shoved casually in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Neil reaches up to switch his mic off.

“You again,” he says, as soon as he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to yell to be heard. It’s a long belated echo, and there’s something that can almost be called amusement playing at the edges of the Monster’s body language.

The Monster steps back, giving Neil more time to land on his roof. “Me. Still with nothing to stop.”

“What about something to start? Here for round two?”

“You’ve managed to catch my interest,” the Monster says, which Neil supposes is a way of saying he kicked the Monster’s ass. “Same as last time?”

“Sure,” Neil agrees. The rules might be the same but the both of them were different - the buzzing under his skin from before is replaced with only mild annoyance, and everything from the Monster’s stance to his voice say that he's settled in a way that he was not earlier.

The whole time they fight Neil is also concentrating hard to parse out anything useful - a fight breaking out near Matt, Renee seeing something suspicious - amongst his friends’ general chatter. It’s irresponsible of him to do this instead of patrol, but grappling against the Monster relieves stress that Neil wasn’t even aware was building. The Monster is a quick learner, never making the same mistake twice, and he’s strong despite his height. Every opening is exploited, and Neil has aching muscles to show for it.

Finally it’s Neil who screws up. He predicts the Monster’s next strike wrong, and doesn’t move to block his kick in time. In the instant that he recoils, the Monster’s full weight slams into him, and he topples back, only barely getting his elbows underneath himself in time and feeling the shock shoot up his arms.

Breathing hard, the Monster straddles him, forearm pressed against Neil’s throat even though he’s kind enough to not draw his knife. They’re both panting, breaths coming in so raspily that Neil can barely hear his earpiece over them and his pounding heart.

“Not so interesting after all,” the Monster says, and Neil isn’t sure whether it was meant for him.

A few years ago this could have been the end. Neil had been taught to run, so fast and far that he couldn’t be caught, and if any of his father’s men could have knocked him down like this he’d already be bracing for pain. But training with the Foxes changed him, and this time Neil knew where to put his limbs and how to shift his weight so suddenly, a split second later, he was the one holding the Monster down.

There’s a wild look in the Monster’s eyes. Neil stays put, just long enough to grit out, “I wouldn’t be so sure,” before he’s clambering up and making space between them.

The Monster slowly gets up, and when Neil meets his gaze, it’s back to normal.

“A rookie mistake,” he agrees, and then, “Round two?”

By the end of the night, any thought of the Ravens is pushed to the back of Neil’s mind.

* * *

 

They don’t always just fight and leave. Neil finds himself looking out for the Monster with increasing frequency, and be it through luck or skill or maybe even mutual intentions, somehow they end up sharing a roof together.

A part of Neil usually feels guilty that he’s slacking off like this, when his friends are putting their all into patrol, and another part welcomes the distraction. Even when they’re just nursing their bruises in silence, the Monster is easily the most aggravating person Neil has ever met and everything from his obnoxious attitude to his dumb, overdone villainy is enough to keep Neil’s mind off of everything else. He’s been running himself ragged, and ever since they’d caught wind of the Ravens, night patrol has lost its appeal.

Neil still tries to limit their time to an hour per night, or at least continue scouting with the assurance that he’s interesting enough for the Monster to not shove off the roof in the first moment of inattention. It isn’t until tonight, when his exhaustion feels bone-deep and disappointment over any lack of progress with the Ravens feels more bitter than ever, that he decides to start up a conversation.

“Hey,” he starts, just loud enough to carry through to where the Monster is. “What do I call you?”

The Monster turns his head towards him boredly, and any hint of surprise is hidden under his bandana. “Does it matter?”

Frustration fills Neil at his non-answer, but it’s different from his usual feeling of _not enough_ that it ends up being a relief. He knows how to argue, at least. “It depends on if you care that we’ve been calling you the Monster. Did you know it’s because you’re basically the size of a goblin?”

“You’re not much taller,” the Monster says, and there’s something like amusement shimmering in his voice. “Besides, there are much worse things than monsters.”

Despite the vague answer, Neil knows what he means.

“People,” he agrees, so soft that he’s not sure if the Monster can hear it. Calling his father and his men, and all of the murderers and rapists that the Foxes have caught ‘monsters’ is too easy.

Whether in agreement or thought, the Monster tilts his head, finally twisting around so they’re facing each other. “What about you?”

“Abram.” There was once a time when Abram was the only real part of him, hidden away and used only in hushed commands by his mother. And then Neil started becoming more than just another name, and it’s become this: Abram and Neil as two sides of the same coin, one existing at night, fighting to keep the cruelty of humanity at bay while the other has the luxury of a normal life in between.

“Abram,” the Monster repeats, the roughness of his voice catching on the syllables. “Not very heroic-sounding.”

“I never said I was,” Neil tells him, and revels in the narrowing of the Monster’s eyes.

They both stew for a moment, with only the noise from below to fill the silence. Someone’s playing obscenely loud music out through the windows of their car, and Neil lets the heavy beat echo before he finally realizes what else he wanted to ask. “Why stop and start?”

“You’re going to have to be clearer than that. Share your thought process with the class.”

Neil bristles, the words _fuck_ and _off_ at the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back down. “The other Foxes said you used to steal, and then you suddenly disappeared before I joined them. Why?”

“The simpler question would be why I started,” the Monster says, leaning in like those couple of inches mean anything against the width of a building. When Neil refuses to humour him, he continues, “Stealing was a way to amuse myself. It is better than being bored, the possibility of death or being caught something to make life interesting.”

“And then what?” Neil doesn’t know why the answer is so important to him. He’s living on borrowed time anyways, a single mistake away from being found by his father or murdered by the Ravens.

The Monster abruptly leans back. “And then I went to therapy. I got prescribed for meds that actually worked and started finding other things to fill my time.”

“So why are you back?” Neil demands, the answer feeling like the moment before a landing. “What changed?”

“My brain chemistry, presumably,” the Monster says. “A relapse. I stopped being interested. Take your pick.”

It feels like the jump was lasting forever, the anticipation never reaching fruit. Neil remembers the Monster calling him interesting, and thinks about how he hasn’t appeared on the Foxes’ radar for weeks. He thinks about a man so bored by life that he spends his nights as a different person.

Neil can’t imagine talking to someone, letting them in and telling them every terrible secret from his past, but he also can’t imagine just giving in. “Then why not go back and change your prescription?”

The Monster looks at him pointedly. “I will not be lectured by a man who is always on the verge of a panic attack. My recovery may not always be linear but at least it is not a flat line.”

Neil resists the urge to point out that flat lines are also linear. It occurs to him why he cares so much about this - the Monster has a whole life ahead of him. Neil probably doesn’t.

“You’ll still try,” he says, not sure where the confidence comes from. “Eventually.”

“When I remember how to care,” the Monster agrees. The grinning skeleton mouth of his bandana looks ghastly, and Neil wonders if the Monster’s lips are twisted in a matching smile underneath. “Don't worry, I have an excellent memory.”

* * *

 

Eden’s becomes a familiar rhythm too, never quite on beat with the pounding bass but easy to follow all the same. Whether Neil’s in the kitchen or out collecting drinks, he always seems to be able to catch Andrew’s eye. He’ll jerk his head in the general direction of the back and Andrew responds with a barely-noticeable nod before Neil calls his break and heads out, fingers already pulling out his lighter and pack of cigarettes.

He’s already lit two by the time Andrew comes out, one new one for Andrew and a partly burnt out remnant for himself. The music still blasts out from the door left ajar, but it’s muffled by distance. Andrew greets him with a hand across his back, ghosting along his spine so lightly that Neil shivers even though he was expecting it.

“Okay,” he says softly to the unvoiced question on Andrew’s face. There’s a minute relax of his shoulders, an almost unnoticeable loosening of stiffened muscles, and Andrew spider-runs his fingers up Neil’s back again one more time before taking the offered cigarette.

Andrew takes a deep breath before releasing a cloud of smoke, and Neil watches the small stream coming from his own cigarette mingle with it before the two fade into the night sky. He shifts and leans his back against the grimy wall so he can watch Andrew’s back as he smokes and thinks about how this kind of comfort with someone was once impossible. If Andrew cares about Neil’s staring he doesn’t say anything, and it’s five more puffs of smoke before Neil works up the nerve to say anything.

“Thank you,” he finally says, letting the words float out until they vanish too. And, because he’s not sure how to voice what he means, “For doing this. For everything.”

Andrew turns, if only to look at Neil judgingly for being vague. “I didn't realize we were doing anything,” he says. “I'm just here for the free cigarettes.”

And maybe that's better than if Andrew were to acknowledge that these breaks together manage to soothe Neil better than anything. He can spend the entire time stewing about everything from his past to the millions of problems piling up in his present, but Andrew always seems to have an extra sense for it and always says the right things to distract Neil.

Just as Neil’s about to point out that last week Andrew had been the one bringing a pack, Andrew’s phone goes off. He looks at Neil as he digs around his jacket pockets for an ancient flip phone - not that Neil can really talk - and Neil just shrugs in a _go ahead_ sort of way. If he closes his eyes he can feel the vibrations of the music through the wall he’s pressed against.

A moment later Andrew is flipping the lid of his phone shut, hard enough that Neil almost expects to hear it accompanied with cracking plastic. In the dim light he can see the veins on the back of Andrew’s hand protruding as he grips it tight and he’s puffing at his cigarette with renewed vigor.

“Bad call?” Neil tries to say lightly as he offers Andrew the remains of his own. Andrew snatches it away.

He doesn’t really expect Andrew to respond, so it’s a surprise when Andrew chokes out, “Someone too nosy too late,” the harsh edge of his voice sharp enough to cut. Andrew finishes smoking in record time and hustles back in in record time. “I have to go.”

Neil’s left staring at the empty spot he left. Irrationally, he’s mad at whoever called Andrew, for ruining whatever peace they’d made here, at Andrew for leaving like that, and mad at himself for the way Andrew’s absence feels like something’s been ripped away from him. It’s what he should expect after turning other people into his source of comfort.

Neil gives the lingering wisps of smoke one last glare before going back in.

* * *

 

Neil doesn’t find the Monster where they normally meet, which isn’t unusual. It means he can actually focus on patrol, even if he was looking forward to sparring out his frustration.

And in the end he isn’t really paying attention, because in lieu of the Monster’s company he’s going back to his old method of flinging himself across six-lane-wide streets and maybe scaring the shit out of random pedestrians and definitely scaring the shit out of Kevin, who yells at him for being reckless.

He shuts off his earpiece and makes his way east, not really aimed anywhere but in the general arc of his patrol path. It’s like the whole city has quieted down, absent of everything from parking lot murders to purse-snatching, leaving only adrenaline to smother Neil’s thoughts.

Neil nearly trips when he sees a familiar figure. This time the sight is normal enough that he knows the man standing at the edge of the roof - short and broad with terrible posture - is the Monster. His feet carry him over without a thought and the next thing he knows is that he’s skidding to a halt just a few meters away.

The Monster doesn’t even turn. “Not now.”

They’re on top of a warehouse this time, no longer in the downtown area. Just across the street is a smattering of small houses, crammed together and dingy like it’s only a matter of time before they’re torn down for something that makes better use of the real estate. Originally Neil thought that the Monster was just staring out into the distance, reminiscent of the first time they’d sparred, but now he can trace his stare to one house in particular.

“I thought you weren’t stealing anymore,” he says. He thought he was able to keep the Monster’s interest.

“I’m not,” the Monster tells him. “You should leave.”

“I shouldn’t, not when it looks like you’re about to commit a crime.”

And finally the Monster turns. Neil freezes when he finds himself facing the barrel of a gun.

“I am.” The Monster’s eyes are blank, the safety off. “One last time: leave.”

“Or what?” Neil demands. He doesn’t know if it’s fear rising in his chest, squeezing every muscle in his body, or betrayal. He can’t move.

“I can’t let you stop me,” the Monster says, but his hand is shaking, almost imperceptible if Neil wasn’t used to looking for it. “You can arrest me after.”

“Why,” Neil finally chokes out. The Monster once told him he stole to stave off the boredom. This is different.

The Monster doesn’t respond and for a moment Neil thinks this is it. He’d shut off his comm, and it’ll be awhile before anyone is sent to his location, long used to him staying in the same spot for hours. Instead, the Monster lowers his gun.

Before Neil can do anything, the Monster speaks and it feels like his heart stops. “I was raped as a child. Repeatedly. Brutally. By my own foster brother, and I didn’t even care because it was a necessary evil I needed to live with if it meant staying with Cass. She wanted to adopt me, can you believe it? And I wanted it so badly.

“I finally got out, let myself get caught for stealing and crashing a car so they’d send me to juvie. I told them that no one should ever be placed in that house again.” The Monster’s voice breaks. “Six more before the son moved out.”

“So this is revenge? For yourself or for them?” Neil probably won't even stop him, not anymore.

“Revenge is useless,” the Monster says. “This is prevention. Drake got a fostering license of his own, and cops investigating complaints are too useless to stop the placement happening tomorrow.”

Neil remembers them on a roof together, an answer to an unspoken question. There are things much worse than monsters.

Neil thinks about his friends, who never saw anything but the good in him, who made him into some sort of hero. He thinks about being Nathaniel, about the boy who grew up with blood on his hands and violence in his veins and gave way to twenty-two other boys who stole and lied and only closed his eyes when his mother did what had to be done.

He thinks about Abram, who was there throughout it all, who tries to follow in Renee’s footsteps and be a better person. And he thinks about the Monster, about children they didn’t save, about people who don’t need to be monsters to do monstrous things.

In a house just a street away is a child rapist. The law isn’t doing anything to stop him.

“If you shoot him the neighbors will hear. People are going to investigate. You’ll get caught.” Neil thinks about Lola. “There will be a body to mourn.”

The Monster is silent, but Neil knows he’s listening. “Let me help.”

* * *

 

Maybe it was easier, back before when the only thing Neil had time to think about was survival. It meant he never felt this empty hole in his chest, the closest thing to heartbreak that he can imagine.

Neil didn’t feel any guilt about killing Drake Spear - couldn’t, not when he knew everything that he’d done. The newly set-up bedroom he’d crept by couldn’t lock from the inside, the bed was the wrong size, the fear in the Monster’s eyes too real to be a trick.

He did feel bad about lying to his friends. About betraying their trust.

Dan’s words - _It’s not up to us who lives or dies. You shouldn’t have made that call_ \- still ring in his ears. If his mother’s death was a numbness, his entire world being sliced away from him, the Foxes’ mistrust left every nerve feeling raw, as if they’d been hacked away leaving nothing behind.

Neil was taken off the patrol rotation, the gun the Monster surrendered to him promptly confiscated even though he wasn’t planning on using it ever. The Foxes still care about him enough to not turn him in, but it’s little reprieve when all he wants is to talk to them again.

He hurt them and misses them and he’s so fucking scared that they’ll never forgive him for doing what he thought was right. Without his friends he’s drifting with only a gossamer thread to keep him here. An instinct that Neil thought he left behind is telling him to leave, before he even has the chance to reattach himself, and the other part of him can’t imagine life after losing them.

He can’t even lean on Andrew to keep him from scattering in the relentless tide. Andrew’s been distancing himself ever since the phone call, taking his breaks at different times and ignoring Neil whenever he tries to say something about it.

Neil lets himself be bitter about that, because unlike with the Foxes he doesn’t know what he did wrong, why he lost the friendship they’d made. And the Monster -

The Monster is crouched beside him, palm warm against the back of his neck as he presses Neil’s head down. “Abram,” he says, a calmness in the eye of the storm. “Breathe.”

Neil shudders and gasps and air fills his burning lungs. He doesn’t know how long he’d been panicking before the Monster found him like this, on the roof of his own building because the walls of his apartment were too confining. Every part of Neil is cold except for where the Monster touches him, and the night air freezes everything in his chest.

Unlike Matt, the Monster doesn’t talk him through his panic attack, just squeezes a tiny bit tighter when it’s been too long between breaths. Eventually he manages to even out his breathing, but they stay put.

When he tilts his head the Monster’s face is closer than he expected. Neil watches his eyes trace his face, taking in his haggard appearance, and resting just a beat longer on his lips than they did anything else.

Oh, he realizes. He wonders if the Monster would be enough to make him feel less alone.

Before the Monster can say anything to put him off, Neil blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The hand at his neck tenses, not quite tightening but losing any bit of laxness. “You don’t really want to,” the Monster says softly.

“This is a yes,” Neil insists, feeling a little warmer with indignance. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

“This is a panic attack,” the Monster corrects. “I will not take advantage of you like that.”

As if the strings holding Neil up had been cut, he slumps forward, forehead against the Monster’s knee and all fight drained out. He’s right - Neil is breaking down, every reason for him to stay sliding through his fingers until there’s nothing left to make Neil any more real than anyone else he’sd been. It’s unfair of him to put the Monster in this position. It’s unfair that he wants the Foxes to trust him after months of going behind their backs.

The Monster’s grip on him is firm, and in this moment, it’s all Neil needs.

* * *

 

Neil’s probably thought about it more than he should, but with everything else falling apart at least it’s something to focus on.

It’s just that -

The idea of kissing the Monster isn’t so terrible. And maybe that’s the difference, Neil thinking about it and deciding if he wants it, because every other kiss he’s ever had was a split-second decision based on curiosity more than desire.

He’s pretty sure he wants the Monster. The Monster never said that he didn’t want him.

They meet up again on the roof of Neil’s apartment building, because Neil’s not supposed to be going out as Abram anymore and he doesn’t want to see the disappointment in the Foxes’ eyes when they find him running around. He still has his mask on but didn’t bring any of his gear in case they do notice him, and the absence of it makes him feel like he’s missing something. His anxiety settles when the Monster finally arrives.

The Monster looks at him questioningly, but this time Neil is aware enough to give him a soft smile, a silent _thank you_ caught on his tongue. He means it for a lot of things - for the steady hand when he’d been falling apart, the nights spent together, the sparring. For coming back. This time it didn’t feel like he could voice it all.

“Hey,” Neil says instead, because it’s easy.

“Hey,” the Monster says mockingly. He moves close to Neil - closer than they used to sit, back when all they had was an uneasy truce, and Neil can almost feel his body heat from where he sits inches away.

It’s time to take a leap of faith. “Last time,” Neil starts, “When I asked if I could kiss you. Was that a ‘no’ or a ‘not now?’”

“It was a warning,” the Monster says, “But not a full stop no.”

“If I asked again would it change to a yes?”

The Monster looks at him in amusement. “It depends on if you ask today.” Then, all humor drained out, “I take consent very seriously.”

“Okay,” Neil says, the word tasting like ash at the reminder. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. The moment you tell me to I’ll stop.”

Finally, the Monster scoots forward to close what little distance was between them. There’s an assessing look in his eyes as he says, “Right now it’s a yes. Kissing only - don’t touch me.”

Neil remembers the feeling of the Monster’s hand on him, warm and firm and surprisingly gentle. “You can touch me.”

“You’d have to close your eyes,” the Monster says softly, fingers coming to rest feather-light on Neil’s jaw. “I can’t kiss you wearing his.”

“Okay.” Neil’s been called stupid before and he probably is, because for some reason he feels safe in the Monster’s hands. Because he trusts the Monster.

Neil closes his eyes. It would be easy for the Monster to peel off his mask, to move his fingers from his jaw to his throat, to remind Neil why this isn’t a good idea. Instead, there’s a rustle as he pulls down his bandana and gentle fingers tilting his head and soft lips pressing against his own. If Neil’s eyes weren’t already closed, they’d probably be fluttering shut.

The kiss ends fast, becoming nothing more than a chaste meeting of lips. “Still yes?” Neil mumbles between them and the Monster answers with another, this time letting it deepen.

The Monster’s good, mouth moving in all the right ways, hands guiding him to make the angle easier. He swallows Neil’s content sigh and kisses fervorously, like the world doesn’t exist beyond the edge of their roof, like it’d end the moment they part. Neil can’t quite keep up, but by the soft purr coming from the back of the Monster’s throat, he doesn’t mind. Neil’s hands scramble for purchase, and he has to settle with clutching the fabric of his own pants.

Finally the Monster pulls away. Disappointment wells in Neil’s chest even though he knows it has to end, and he waits for the Monster to give him a quiet _okay_ before opening his eyes.

He can’t see the Monster’s lips, which are hopefully as swollen as Neil’s own feel, but he’s breathing heavily and he still looks like he’s lost all composure. Something warm stirs in Neil and he realizes how much he likes it. The Monster looks nice like this.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Monster says, raising a hand to block him. Neil smiles, and spends the rest of the night simply enjoying the Monster’s company.

* * *

 

Neil is busy wallowing in his misery when Allison comes pounding on his door with her very nice pink nails. He’s trying not to - Dan had said that there’s probably still a place for him among the Foxes if he just gives them time - but he’d seen a jogger out with a dog that looked too similar to Maeve and, well, he misses them. Without his mother to scold him, he’s allowed that much.

Allison clucks her tongue when she sees him, bags under his eyes and losing weight and it’s almost like how they first met, when she took one look at Dan and Matt’s new friend from the gym and promptly decided it was her job to pull him together.

“Renee told me that this has gone on long enough and she’s right,” Allison says in lieu of a greeting, and hauls Neil over to his shoes. “Dan still doesn’t forgive you.”

Neil wonders what hurt her more; that he made the call to kill a man or that he disappointed Wymack in the process. “What about you?” Something like hope bubbles in him. “Or - Renee?”

“I’m still undecided,” Allison says. “I never assumed you were as idealistic as Dan and Matt. Renee was on your side from the beginning.”

“Oh,” Neil says, even though hearing it should be more of a relief.

“Don’t be mad at her,” Allison tells him. “She’s been trying to get us to see things from your perspective but it’s hard. Knowing what she did in her past, before the Foxes, and what you did just now, it’s different.”

Allison drags him over to her car, which is shiny and expensive and not at all fit for her current lifestyle. Neil tries to imagine what Wymack must have said that convinced her to throw both her wealth and her time into the Foxes, back when he was struggling to rebuild them after the loss of Kayleigh. Allison steals the last free parking spot outside of the city centre before finally turning to him. “I think I do forgive you. The world is better off without people like Drake Spear.”

Something stings the corners of Neil’s eyes. “Thanks,” he chokes out, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “I missed you,” he adds, because he has, so, so, much.

Allison looks a little uncomfortable, but she pulls him into a half-hug. “Us too,” she whispers.

She leads him into a food court and, ignoring his protests, proceeds to methodically buy something from every place there. “You can take it home,” she says dismissively. “Even from a block away we could tell that you haven’t been eating.”

“What?”

Allison looks at him impatiently. “You don’t think that we didn’t check up on you? Made sure that you’re still alive?” She snorts, “Of course, you’ve been pretty distracted.”

“What,” Neil says again, cheeks heating. Someone saw him with the Monster. Kissing the Monster. “How long?”

“Since before Spear,” Allison says. “You turn off your comm a lot, did you know that? And then you started hanging around the Monster, but we didn’t say anything because you were safe and we trusted you. And then we figured things were fine and the next thing we knew, you’d murdered a guy.”

She says it so casually, voice pitched so it’s just quieter than the rest of the din around them and no one but Neil can hear. Neil averts his eyes and stares at the food court’s pink tiles instead.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Allison waits until he finally looks her in the eyes before continuing. “I’m not the one you should apologize to,” she tells him. “But I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to think long and hard about it before doing anything else. You listening?”

“Yeah,” Neil manages to say.

“Good. This is it: you aren’t that special.” Allison grins at the obvious confusion on his face, but it’s a little sad at the same time. “I used to think I was in love, and maybe I was. There was this guy, Seth, who was a runner for one of  the gangs we were trying to take down. He was a total asshole - rude, uncooperative, you name it, but I always imagined him in other circumstances, where he would be better.

“I thought I could change him. We got him to turn and make a statement, took down major leaders. I wanted to train him to join the Foxes. I was going to get him clean, turn him into everything I had dreamed, and for a moment I thought it was working.

“We found him dead in his car, wrapped around a tree with so much shit in his blood that we couldn’t figure out how he managed to even start the engine. No leads, nothing to point to foul play when I knew Seth was having a hard time with rehab. I don’t know why he died, if it was a professional hit or if he’d finally given up. Hoping only ever gets me so far.” There’s a steely-hard edge to her voice, like she’s trying her best to keep herself from crying in the food court booth, and Neil is as useless as ever with words.

“Whatever you do with the Monster, just remember to do what you think is right,” Allison finally says. “Don’t expect him to change for you.”

* * *

 

It’s his first day back on patrol and Neil can hardly contain the excitement buzzing under his skin. He makes it home in record time and changes quickly, planning to go out early in the hopes of catching the Monster first. To his pleasant surprise the Monster is already waiting for him, startling when Neil opens the door to the roof.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly. It’d been a good day following a steadily improving week - he was talking with his friends again, even if sometimes words came stilted and awkward, and Andrew had decided to rejoin him during breaks, passing him a lit cigarette like they’d never stopped. Neil finally feels anchored again, and is more determined than ever to never let go.

“Hey,” the Monster echoes, but if he notices anything different about Neil he doesn’t say anything. Instead he moves towards Neil, intention clear. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Neil breathes, and closes his eyes expectedly.

This time the Monster guides his hands onto his shoulders, mumbling a _only here_ and relaxing into Neil’s touch as he lets his thumb trace little circles. Their mouths slot together, and the Monster’s hands cradling Neil’s face are enough to keep him from feeling unsteady when he’s standing like this.

The Monster tilts his head forward, breaking the kiss and smooshing his nose into Neil’s. “I want to blow you,” he says.

Neil hadn’t really been aroused, more interested in making out than anything else, but suddenly he feels warm all over. “Oh,” he breathes. “Okay, yeah. Sure. If you want.”

With one last nip on his bottom lip the Monster lowers himself, kissing a trail down Neil’s neck and over his covered hip. Neil feels like he’s swaying in the wind, almost dizzy with his eyes closed and so tempted to look down just to see the Monster, but he stays put and lets the Monster’s hands gripping his hips hold him up, balancing himself on the Monster’s broad shoulders.

“Still yes?” The Monster asks, hands finally leaving so they can pull on Neil’s buckle.

“Yes, yes,” Neil murmurs, and prays that the Monster isn’t planning on filching anything from his gear belt. It’s still a while before the other Foxes start, and he really hopes that no one’s watching this. “It’s still a yes.”

The Monster finally undoes Neil’s pants, and it’s too warm for his shivers to be in anything other than desire. “Impatient.”

Neil lets out a soft whine. Where the Monster touches him it feels like he’s on fire, nerves more sensitive than ever. He’s never really taken much care in jerking off, preferring the much less messy option of just taking a cold shower, but it never felt like _this_.

The Monster places a delicate kiss on Neil’s hipbone. “Interesting choice of curtains and carpet,” he says, before his mouth is on Neil and any sort of question promptly flees his mind.

He’s whimpering into the night, doing his best to keep his hips from jerking as the Monster works his cock. Before long he’s releasing into the Monster’s mouth, knees crumbling under him and eyes still screwed tight no matter how much he wants to see the Monster. The Monster simultaneously kisses him and zips up his pants, pressing against Neil insistently until he gives in and lets the Monster lower him onto the roof.

“I want to -”

“Yes,” Neil interrupts, overwhelmed and drunk on the feeling of the Monster. “To anything. I’ll tell you no.”

It says a lot about how unravelled the Monster is too, if he doesn’t immediately jump on that and say something annoying. Instead, he slowly drags his hips across Neil’s, grinding himself against Neil’s spent and sensitive cock, smothering his moans with his own mouth. Neil cries out, but doesn’t say no, only clinging onto the Monster’s shoulders harder to keep him close.

He barely registers the Monster leaving his lips to reacquaint himself with the underside of his jaw, mouthing at the skin in a way that ends up being a cross between kisses and gnawing. He reaches the edge of Neil’s turtleneck collar and pushes it down with his mouth, presses their groins together and seals his lips over Neil’s collarbone in the same moment. Neil doesn’t know when or how he got hard so quickly, but the combined feeling of the Monster’s hips rolling and the suction at his neck is enough to push him over the edge again.

His pants are sticky and the Monster’s movements have ceased and Neil has never come so hard in his life.

“Did you -” he starts, because he still can’t look.

“Yeah,” the Monster whispers breathlessly. He brushes Neil’s hair from his face, but doesn’t touch his mask. “You can open your eyes.”

The first thing Neil sees is the bandana looming above him, and it’s silly how he’s become fond of it. His chest is heaving. The Monster is looking at him with something unreadable in his eyes, and Neil’s about to ask if it was as good for him when his earpiece suddenly crackles back to life, causing him to jolt.

The Monster immediately gets off him, but relaxes as Neil motions towards his ear in a _not your fault_ sort of way.

“Are you ready?” Kevin asks, and Neil takes a moment to be thankful that he’s too single-minded to be awkward about anything that’s happened.

“Yeah,” Neil confirms. He looks at the Monster and mouths, _I have to go, sorry,_ but the Monster only shrugs in response. He quickly readjusts himself before buckling back on his belt, and grimaces at the gross feeling in his pants.

The Monster leans in before he goes, places one last chaste kiss on Neil’s lips, and watches Neil leap off into the night.

* * *

 

It turns out that, other than his costume shirt, Neil doesn’t have anything with a neck high enough to hide the violent hickey blooming at the base of his neck. He half-hopes that everyone will just mistake it for a throat punch, but instead he gets a ruthlessly gleeful look from Allison and awkward silence from everyone else.

He imagines telling the Monster off for giving him the hickey, even as he looks in the mirror and traces it reverently. Against countless scars and bruises it’s kind of nice, a reminder of something good for once. Unfortunately he’s stuck showing it off, trying to pull his t-shirt collar higher in vain and praying that no one will notice.

“Neil Abram Josten,” Nicky says, voice uncomfortably screechy as Neil walks into Eden's. “Is that a _hickey_?”

No such luck.

Andrew looks up, and when Neil turns to him there’s a peculiar expression on his face.

“Abram?” He asks quietly, and Neil’s stomach swoops unpleasantly in response.

“My middle name,” he says, because there is no reason why Andrew should think it’s anything else. “I’m surprised Nicky still remembers it from when I applied here.”

Andrew studies him, gaze landing on the hickey, and Neil self-consciously remembers the time Andrew tried to kiss him in the back room and Neil said he wasn’t interested. Before he can figure out something to say that won’t sound like pity, Andrew abruptly turns away.

“I think I’m getting sick,” he announces in a way that is so transparently fake.

“What?” Nicky says. “You were perfectly fine -”

Andrew makes a horrible hacking sound from the back of his throat. “Are you sure? I’m going to die and it will be because you refused to let me take a sick day.”

Having a cousin as assistant manager must come in handy because even though Nicky very clearly doesn’t believe him, he sighs and says, “Fine, fine, you can go home. We’ll take the bus.” He winces in advance for what will doubtlessly be Aaron’s scathing response, but looks tired.

Andrew didn’t even wait for his response, and is already shrugging his jacket back on. He shrugs carelessly, and for effect makes that ugly noise again. He leaves before anyone else can stop him, leaving Neil and Nicky staring at his retreating back.

“I swear,” Nicky says, turning to Neil, “They’re going to turn me grey before I even hit my mid-thirties.”

Neil pretends to laugh in response even though he’s not really paying attention, mind caught on how weird Andrew’d been. He’s distracted for the rest of his shift, and rushes through changing out because he needs to see the Monster in order to settle himself.

It is officially a terrible day when he steps out to the sound of a safety going off. The Monster is nowhere in sight, and instead it’s another man in all black accompanied by two goons, both with their guns trained on him.

On their left breast is a Raven patch.

“If I were you, I would put my hands behind my head and kneel,” the middle person says. “This is a warning you should heed.”

“Who are you,” Neil demands, even though he already knows.

“Riko Moriyama,” the man says, and Neil immediately pictures him as the one who broke Kevin, who’s been sending him threatening notes, who is lieutenant to the most dangerous gang in the country. “Don’t worry, you do not need to introduce yourself, Neil Josten. Or Nathaniel Wesninski, whichever you prefer. Now do not make me repeat myself again. Hands behind your head. Kneel.”

Neil gets down. He can’t take down both of the goons, and if they know his true identity then they know his father. That means they’re dangerous, and that this entire time the Foxes have been in way over their heads.

“Good,” Riko says, smile cruel and sharp as a blade’s edge. “You are a difficult person to get alone. Your activities with that common thief are,” he pauses, “Distasteful. Your father would not approve.”

“What did you do to him?”

Riko looks smug. “Nothing. The man must have gotten bored of you already. The better question is what I am doing to your pathetic comrades.”

Neil’s heart feels like it just left into his throat, and terror coats him like an icy bath. He’ll kill Riko if he hurt them, no matter the cost.

“Calm down, Nathaniel,” Riko says loftily. “Nothing will happen to them tonight as long as you come with me.”

* * *

 

They bring Neil to an empty warehouse a two-hour drive away. He’s passed between two cars, stuck in the trunk with one of the goons and their gun, and left with no choice but to let Riko take him where he wants to.

When he gets there his stomach does an unpleasant flip, because lying on the floor is a tarp, the kind the Butcher usually has to make clean-up easier.

“Your father is running late,” Riko says, in a way that makes it clear how low his opinion is of him. “But a reminder, Nathaniel: a single call - or lack of - will put a bullet through one of the Foxes’ heads, so I would highly suggest you obey.”

A gun is nudged into his back, and Neil knows what they want. He lies down on the tarp.

“Good,” Riko croons. “Lift up your arms.”

One of the goons is still watching him, making sure that he doesn’t try anything, but he didn’t need to bother. The threats against Neil’s friends are enough to keep him compliant. It’s not like he expected to live this long anyways. The other goon takes out a cord and painstakingly ties each of his limbs to anything solid he finds around the warehouse, from a massive worktable to pipes against the wall, leaving Neil spread-eagled and immobile on the floor.

Riko comes to crouch next to him. “This wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d just given me back what is mine. You brought this upon yourself.” He eyes Neil, and smirks at the stubborn set of his jaw. “It is wise to keep quiet, but I wouldn’t mind hearing you scream. Your father only wants you to have all your limbs intact so he gets the pleasure of removing them one by one.”

He draws a switchblade from his jacket. Like this, with Riko looming over him and no way to defend himself, Neil feels like a kid again. His father used to yell at him for crying, but his punishments would always make him cry harder.

Riko makes the first cut.

Neil bites his lip but doesn’t scream. If he’s going to die, at least he’ll rob Riko of this satisfaction.

It feels like hours later when one of the goons interrupt them to say that the Butcher is on his way, and Neil is in too much pain to register the way Riko digs his blade deeper in frustration. Riko wants to kill him, he realizes. He’s a spoilt brat on a power trip and all of that is about to be taken away by an actual, competent adult.

Through gasping breaths and the haze of pain, that’s what Neil tells him. It’s humiliating, and the thought of Riko killing him hurts worse than the lacerations on his chest, but nothing Riko can do would be as bad as what his father will.

“Do you think you’ve always been this much of a dick or is it a consequence of your endless daddy issues?” He asks. “When Kevin came to us the first thing he said is that you’re barely worth our time. Lieutenant in name only, because the Ravens’ leader can’t have his pathetic excuse for a son be anything less, but no power.”

“Shut up,” Riko grits, but he’s too mad to remember that he holds the Foxes’ lives in his hands. He cuts deeper, and Neil bites his lip bloody, vision already getting fuzzy.

“It’s sad that you think tracking me down is enough to win any favours. It’s not like I was hiding very well, but I guess the Ravens are just incompetent.”

Riko hits him in the face, and brings the switchblade up to his throat, where he presses hard enough that Neil can feel some skin break.

Before Neil can say anything to make him just finish it, the warehouse door opens and Riko jerks back at its clatter. Any hope Neil had sinks. He’s too late - the Butcher is here.

Riko springs to his feet as Neil’s father enters the area, surveying the mess on Neil’s torso and arms disapprovingly. Patrick DiMaccio, his bodyguard, dumps the case containing his knives onto the worktable. “I thought I said Nathaniel would be mine to dispose of.”

“He is,” Riko says, halfway between petulant and fearful. “I didn’t cut deep.”

Nathan doesn’t even acknowledge him, just motions to DiMaccio so he’ll move to stand between Riko and Neil, effectively blocking him off. The rage on his face at being pushed aside would be funny, except Neil’s greatest fear is now standing above him, casually testing the edge of his cleaver on a finger. It’s blunt, which means Neil will be begging for death long before it’s granted.

“Junior,” Nathan starts. “Such a disappointment. I’ve been informed that your bitch of a mother is no longer in the picture.”

Neil stays silent. He’s not supposed to talk in Nathan’s presence unless asked a question - he remembers that much.

“A shame. I would have enjoyed drawing it out,” Nathan continues. “You will have to be enough.”

“Fuck you,” Neil finally spits through his pain. He’s going to die screaming no matter what.

Nathan steps forward and presses the toe of his shoe against Neil’s throat, until he’s gasping for breath. “Pathetic,” he says. “I’ve been thinking for a long time about what I would do to you once I found you. There’s so many options, but last year I finally decided. I am going to keep you from ever running away from me again, and then I am going to skin you alive.”

He finally steps off. “Get me a blowtorch,” he says to one of Riko’s men. “I can’t have him bleed out.”

Without waiting, Nathan moves down to Neil’s legs, tied down with no slack to struggle with.

“You won’t be needing your legs,” he says, and readies his cleaver. Neil forces his eyes open, because maybe it’ll hurt less if he sees it coming.

Three shots come from nowhere, and Neil watches his father stagger back at the force, body folding in protectively around his torso. One final shot, and there’s a spray of blood coming from his head before the cleaver clatters to the floor.

Neil's head snaps to the side, which hurts like hell. He doesn't know what he expects to see - his mother back from the dead to save him one final time; a guardian angel here to make amends. With a yell, Riko scrambles towards him, switchblade out. Neil can’t process enough to figure out why before another bullet hits Riko on the shoulder, making him crumble and scream. Somewhere, he can hear people moving, the rhythm of a fight, and his name.

It’s too much too fast, and Neil can’t keep up when he’s already getting dizzy from blood loss and pain. He's caught up in memories of the last time he was carved open like this, the phantom feeling of his mother's hands keeping steady pressure on his bleeding wounds a net he can't escape from. Maybe if he could move he’d be able to force himself to get up and hide, survive until she finds him, but he’s failed her. She’d be furious that he got caught, if she ever finds his body to figure out what happened.

“Abram,” someone shouts, but it doesn’t sound like his mother.

Neil finally closes his eyes.

* * *

 

Neil comes to in Wymack’s apartment, wounds being tended to by Abby. She’d been the Foxes’ medic even while Kayleigh was alive, and has stitched up more of Neil’s cuts than he can count. He remembers the last time seeing her when he broke his wrist, and she hums when she sees he’s awake.

“Where -”

“They’re outside,” Abby says. “Just let me finish redressing these.”

Neil nods quietly, still not quite sure how he lived through last night.

Abby finally finishes, wadding up the soiled gauze and bandages before making her way to the door. “I’m glad that you’re alright,” she says, which is a pretty relative assessment. She knocks on the door with her foot and Neil can hear people scrambling to open it. “Be gentle with him, alright? I don’t want to have to redo his stitches.”

The first person he sees is Matt, who lights up when he spots Neil. He’s about to rush forward, but is brutally shoved aside. And then there’s Dan.

She makes it to him first, and the next thing Neil knows, her arms are around him - surrounding his head instead of his torso - and she’s shaking. Neil can feel something wet hit his scalp from where her face is pressed against his hair, and he hesitantly lifts a hand to wrap around her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. And then, disbelievingly, “You’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Neil mumbles. “I’m alive.”

Dan’s whole body shudders, either in laughter or sobs, and their friends are tactful enough that they quiet down and pretend they aren't listening in.

“You were right,” Dan finally says. “Some people don’t deserve to live. I saw him standing over you with the knife and there was so much blood and I was so fucking scared for you. I would kill him a thousand times if it means you’re safe.”

“Oh,” says Neil softly, and he can feel the corners of his eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” Dan repeats. “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you, I’m sorry that I cut you off like that, I’m sorry for everything.”

Neil squeezes her tighter, even though it sets his arms on fire. “I already forgave you,” he says, and holds on for a little longer.

“Stop hogging him,” Allison complains, and suddenly the rest of his friends are piling on him too. They try their best to stay clear of his wounds but despite their efforts, Neil’s chest feels tight and warm anyways. Matt buries Neil’s face into the crook of his neck, mumbling his own string of apologies, and both Allison and Renee cling to him like they won’t ever let go. Even Kevin, in the most painfully awkward way ever, leans in to hold him close for a few seconds.

“What happened?” Neil finally asks. It feels like a dream. Neil shouldn’t have survived being caught by his father, and instead he’s surrounded by the people he loves most in the world.

“It’s the Monster who managed to put it all together,” Matt says. “He knocked out the guy trailing me and told us about seeing the Ravens capture you.”

“Wait, the Monster,” Neil begins, but is interrupted by the sound of Wymack’s front door opening, and then the frantic scrape of shoes against hardwood and the bang of the door and finally -

“Andrew?”

There’s a plastic bag hooked onto Andrew’s wrist and Wymack’s somewhere yelling at him for ruining his floor but all of Andrew’s attention is on Neil. He steps forward, and to Neil’s surprise the Foxes give him space. Andrew reaches out to cup his face, grip like iron despite how his hands tremble, and Neil’s breath catches at the look on his face.

“You are the biggest idiot in the world,” he finally says, and that’s when Neil realizes why his hands feel so familiar. Around Andrew’s neck is the Monster’s bandana.

“For what?”

Andrew takes a shuddering breath. “Take your pick. You let the Ravens take you, never told anyone they knew where you live -”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Neil says. He almost asks how long Andrew’s known who he is, but even if his suspicions are wrong it feels like something to talk about in private. Instead, to his friends who probably have so many questions but are patiently waiting, he says, “I have to tell you some things.”

Everyone gives him attention as Neil explains who is father is - _was_ \- and what it was like running from him. He tries to avoid putting too much detail into his scars and various injuries, but from the look in their eyes they can guess most of it. Neil talks about his mother, about going through countless cities and trading names and identities. He talks about finding a home here. His friends ask questions, and Neil doesn’t miss the way Dan’s fists clench in her lap every time his father is brought up, and finally he tells them what Riko and his father did and threatened that night.

At some point Wymack must have come into the room, taking the bag from Andrew and unpacking a shelf’s worth of ointments and bandages. When Neil reaches the end he takes over, telling him about the Monster convincing them of the danger he’s in. Neil listens as he explains how they assembled gear and tracked him down, bringing along Wymack’s and Andrew’s confiscated gun before finally finding Neil with his father and Riko. Dan had shot Nathan before diving into the fight, and Kevin, seeing Riko go for Neil, managed to grab the other gun and incapacitate him. Riko’s in custody, and there’s a solid chance that this success will be enough to finally take down the Ravens.

Neil wouldn’t be surprised if the Foxes find his secrets too much, if the truth of who he is and who he was raised to be is enough to finally abandon him for good, but none of them are leaving.

“Thank you,” he says to all of them, and it feels like coming home after a long journey.

Finally, after talking and enjoying each other’s presence and sudden, tearful hugs, the glances Neil and Andrew keep exchanging becomes too much for everyone else. “Call for us if you need anything,” Matt says.

Allison is right behind him, and before she can close the door Neil stops her. “I’m sorry about what happened to Seth,” he says.

Allison stares at him and then at Andrew, still standing pressed up against the bed to be closer to Neil. “Don’t be,” she says. “It’s good that you proved me wrong.”

And then she leaves and it’s just Neil and Andrew.

“So,” Neil starts, when it becomes apparent that Andrew won’t. “You’re the Monster?”

“And you’re both Neil and Abram,” Andrew says.

“When did you figure it out?”

“Last night,” Andrew says, and Neil’s heart sinks. It explains why the Monster didn’t show for the first time in weeks. “I was going to meet you,” he says, seeing the look on Neil’s face. “And then I saw you surrounded by the Ravens.”

“You weren’t going to fight for me?” Neil jokes, but by the angry set to Andrew’s jaw, he must have thought of it.

“I didn’t know if I could get to you before someone stuck a bullet in your head,” Andrew admits. His hands are resting on the edge of Neil’s bed, and he wants to grab them badly. Andrew follows his gaze, gives permission by turning his hands over so the palms face up, and Neil does.

“When you told me that you aren’t interested in anybody,” Andrew says, and there is a terrible hesitancy to his voice that Neil has never heard before. “Was that a lie? Or was Abram kissing the Monster just an experiment?”

And suddenly Neil realizes that he’s _hurt_ , both by the idea that Neil would feel the need to lie to Andrew and by the idea that the kisses he shared with the Monster meant nothing.

“Neither,” Neil says. “I wasn’t interested before, and then at some point I started wanting you.”

“Me? Or just the Monster?”

Neil wants to tell him that he’s being unfair, because how is he supposed to know? At some point the Monster and Andrew became equally important to him, even if he still doesn’t understand his own feelings even now. But they’re the same person, and if Neil could grow to love the Monster, then he can do the same for Andrew.

It’s all so overwhelming. Neil hadn’t even realized that the Monster felt anything for him. “Both,” he finally says.

Andrew looks unmollified by his answer. Neil raises a hand so it hovers just beside his cheek and softly asks, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, and Neil gently touches his face. Without the bandana in the way, he has nice cheekbones.

“I’m pretty sure I want you no matter who you are,” Neil says, and feels Andrew lean into his palm. “Can I kiss you?”

Andrew answers with his mouth pressing against Neil’s, more tender than anything he could ever imagine.

And like that - with Andrew between his hands and the Foxes just a room over, with his father dead and the Ravens about to crumble - Neil finally settles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! the next chapter has lauren's gorgeous art and i might come back later with an epilogue
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated and feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com) :)


	2. nebulas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to [reblog the art](https://llheji.tumblr.com/post/177633013095/)!


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